Countermeasures
by FlyYouFools
Summary: A goofy challenge in the kitchen leads to a startling realization for Emma and Regina.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Set post S2, three years in the future. Thanks to skinnylittlelesbian for her fantastic beta help. Reviews sincerely appreciated. Part 1/3**

**Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, you'd be watching this on your screen, I can assure you of that.**

Looking back, neither woman could explain exactly how it happened.

One moment they were celebrating the last day of Henry's summer vacation and the next, everything changed.

The evening started innocently enough. Emma had come to the house for their weekly family dinner. She called it "family dinner" every chance she got to tweak Regina, who pretended to hate the phrase ("Must you, Miss Swan?"), but secretly didn't mind at all.

Since the events with Greg and Tamara, dismantling the trigger in the mines and the resulting affairs in Neverland, Regina had mellowed considerably when it came to the subject of "Miss Swan." But not to the point in which she could call her "Emma." No, of course not. That would be just too familiar, too…intimate. "Miss Swan" it would remain.

The two women had reached a relatively easy peace since returning to what passed for everyday life in Storybrooke. Regina was reinstated as mayor at Snow's request ("Politics is so…_dirty_," Snow noted with wonder) and Emma returned to police the once-again-sleepy town and perfected the art of trashcan basketball. The crises of the past few years had changed them both, each realizing that her complicated history could not be erased or rewritten. Their lives would continue to be intertwined due to their shared son.

It only made sense to act as an unofficial team to co-parent Henry, although no one would dare use the term "co-parent" – not since Archie tried once, and Regina nearly fainted from the implication.

Neither woman spoke of how their shared magic impossibly opened a portal to another world and successfully defused a failsafe that could not be disarmed. Those topics existed in the deep end of the pool, and neither woman wanted to step out of the relative comfort and safety of the shallow water.

Instead they stuck to safe subjects – Henry, town business, and sometimes the latest gossip. They planned their schedules and their lives around their son, who had returned to live with Regina. Emma was in and out of Mifflin Street so much some residents had begun to think she lived there, too.

Which was why it didn't look out of the place to see Emma perched up on the spotless kitchen counter happily eating cake while Henry and Regina sat at the small table in the kitchen. Henry's first day of high school was tomorrow and Regina baked to celebrate after Emma faux begged like a serf when dropping him off the day before: "But your cakes are the most delicious in all the land. Pleeeease, Your Majesty?". Henry piled on relentlessly, "Yeah, Mom. CAKE!"

Emma had eaten dinner and dessert at the table with the pair, but when returning for another piece she decided to poke the former queen by hopping up on the counter. She jumped up backwards without using her hands, which were carefully holding the plate, fork and cake. Emma's ass landed with a clatter and momentum drove her heels into the lower cabinets with a loud bang.

Henry dipped his head to hide his smile. He knew this drove his mother insane. He also knew Emma loved to needle Regina, whom he suspected liked it, too. It was, he realized, how they communicated. _Here we go again_, he thought. _It's the best show in town_.

Regina let out an exasperated sigh as she took in the sight before her.

"Honestly, Miss Swan. You dress like a peasant."

Emma was wearing a tank top, shorts and flip-flops, which she changed into upon arriving at the mayor's house. The sheriff had gotten into the habit of coming to family dinner straight from work, leaving a duffle bag with a change of clothes in the back of the Bug.

"_You wear your uniform to dinner at Regina's? Figures, I can see her demanding that," Ruby said one afternoon at the station, tossing a dart at the board._

"_Nah. I got clothes in the car, I just change when I get home," Emma answered, lining up her shot. "Uh, I mean, there. At Regina's….when I get to Regina's. I can't be late, she'd rip me a new one."_

_Desperate to get off the topic, Emma launched the dart so poorly it hit clanged off the board and slid across the floor._

"_Makes sense," Ruby replied evenly, hiding a sly smile as she strolled over to pick up Emma's errant dart. She knew Emma's shift ended at 4 pm and, thanks to Henry, that "family dinner" was promptly at 6 pm. Emma, for her part, lived 5 minutes away from the station in one direction and 10 minutes from Regina's in the other, yet went straight from the station to Regina's every Wednesday._

"It's the end of August. This is what _normal_ people wear," Emma said, swinging her legs as if to demonstrate.

"And you continue to eat like a peasant, as well," Regina chided lightly. "_On my counter_"_._

Emma smirked, shoveling in a big forkful of cake. Mission accomplished. In The Regina Mills Encyclopedia of Insults, "peasant" was as low as it got.

"A kitchen counter is for preparation, not your posterior," Regina lectured. "I thank you to remember that."

Yet Emma purposely would not and Regina knew that, as well, and both were fine with the understanding.

Regina sat regally, legs crossed, daintily finishing her cake, tiny forkful by tiny forkful and wondering if she could nurture enough to overcome nature so her son wouldn't end up overpowered by idiotic Charming genes.

Picking up the napkin from her lap, she delicately wiped the corners of her mouth and continued: "I'm curious, Miss Swan, is there any occasion in your life that does not merit cake?"

Emma guided the last bite into her mouth, closed her lips, and grinned at her happily.

"Nopefph."

Silence temporarily pervaded the room long enough for Emma to realize Regina had left the radio on. Strains of quiet, peaceful music floated around the kitchen until Emma reached over and hit the Seek button until she was satisfied.

"Oh, I _love_ this song."

Gripping the counter on either side of her hips, Emma pushed off, hopped down, and walked over to Henry, extending her hand.

"C'mon, kid, show me your moves."

Henry heard the funky, upbeat, soulful tune and looked up at Emma, who had kicked off her flip-flops and was starting to gyrate and groove in place.

"Uh, no way."

Although he was getting taller by the day and growing like a weed, Emma could still outmuscle her son, so she did, pulling him up to stand, noting that when he did, they were almost at eye level.

"Let's goooo!" she sang out.

The Sheriff was in a goofy mood, or maybe it was the sugar. Maybe it was the good meal and a full stomach. Maybe, just maybe, it was that this former foster kid was content. Yes, her life was weird and unconventional, but it was hers. Finally.

Emma stood next to her son and started bumping her hips into his in time to the music.

"Loosen up, man. You're never going to land anyone at a school dance standing there like a tree."

To emphasize her point, Emma danced around him in a circle, pointing her fingers up to the ceiling and goofily prancing to the beat, while Henry stood still.

"Yes, by all means, Henry. Listen to your mother, she is obviously an expert," Regina added with cool sarcasm.

The remark was as sharp as a knife, but not intended to slice. Emma and Regina continued to bicker and insult each other, but these days it was more like pigtail-pulling than their former verbal nuclear war.

Emma sashayed over to the table, a taunt on her lips, "You're just jealous."

"Hardly."

"Jealous of thiiiiiiis?" Emma drawled mock seductively, drawing out the last word and running her hands up and down the outside of her swaying hips as she bent into a squat and rose again.

Regina barked out a belly laugh, one so loud, long and sincere it shocked not only Emma and Henry, but Regina as well. The former Evil Queen laughed so hard and long, her stomach began to hurt and her eyes watered.

By the time Regina raised her head and wiped the tears out of her eyes, Emma and Henry were standing still, mouths slightly ajar. Both had seen Regina do a number of things, but never that.

"What?" Regina smiled, guiding her index fingers to the corners of her eyes to fix what was surely now-compromised eyeliner. Exhaling loudly, she slapped her hands on her thighs and looked up at Emma.

"Fine, Miss Swan, let's see what you've got."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Chapter 2/3. Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows. Hope you enjoy this. Reviews *much* appreciated, especially any specifics. I get a kick finding out what you liked best, made you smile, gave you feels, etc.**

"Huh?"

Emma narrowed her eyes in confusion as Regina stood in front of her, waiting to dance. The cocksure blonde was suddenly anything but. She did not expect this turn of events, not at all. Yet Emma had been rather successful with false bravado in the past, and she was hoping today was no different.

"Eloquent as always, my dear," Regina smirked.

The song ended and the DJ's voice filled the kitchen. _Phew_, Emma thought, _commercials. Saved by an ad._

"This is 97.9 The Q, Portland's home for your dance favorites. You're in the middle of our commercial-free jam hour," noted the polished voice, which segued straight into another upbeat song.

_Dammit. Who the hell's jammin' for an hour on a Wednesday?_ Emma wondered. _Well, other than us…_

Regina innocently stood in front of Emma, pretending she didn't know her decision to dance set her counterpart off balance. _This will be fun. She'll think twice about sitting on my counter next time._

"So what exactly is my goal here? To look asinine?"

"To have fun." Emma answered, recovering her composure as she walked across the kitchen and turned up the volume a notch.

"To enjoy yourself with friends," she continued. "Do you remember how to do that?"

"Those reasons don't sound compelling."

"Well, it's also good exercise."

"That I can support."

Emma faced Henry and grabbed his hips from an arm's-length away. She started to slide her own side to side, her arms trying to force her son to match her smooth rhythm.

Speaking over her shoulder to Regina but watching Henry, Emma advised, "Start like this."

The boy's stiff hips refused to move gracefully, either out of embarrassment or incompetence.

Emma was so focused on trying to get her son to loosen up she didn't feel Regina sidle up behind her until the brunette's hands were on her hips.

"Like this, Miss Swan?" Regina breathed near her ear, moving in time with Emma, left and right.

Emma somehow controlled her instinct to gasp at the Mayor's sultry tone and complete violation of her personal space. Their heads were so close, the scent of Regina's shampoo wafted under Emma's nose, overwhelming her senses, and she couldn't contain the electricity that shot straight to her core. Her tank top was thin and Regina's hands were warm. All at once, Emma was confused at the mayor's movement, aroused by it and further confused by the fact she was this aroused.

Henry, for his part, was oblivious, concentrating on moving in time and staring at his feet, as Emma removed her hands from his hips and turned around, all but in Regina's arms.

Emma lowered her eyes and watched the brunette's body undulate side to side in an impossibly tight pencil skirt and black heels. Mesmerized, Emma's eyes raked up Regina's swaying body, past her wide red belt, and ascended button-by-button up her crisp, white blouse. _Well, at least she didn't wear the boots today_, Emma thought. _I'd have passed out._

"Umm, ye-, yeah. That's, ah, good."

Without thinking, Emma placed her hands over Regina's as the two began to move together in time. Although each had her hands on the other, they kept a respectable distance, which was getting harder to maintain with every measure of the music. Each felt drawn to the other eager to create some delicious friction.

As soon as Emma's hands landed on Regina's, the brunette felt a surge to her groin and a spark on her fingers. She had started a dangerous game, one that she suddenly thought twice about but was impossible to stop. Her arousal was nearly crushing, and her fingertips detected an invisible flicker, akin to how she used to feel before unleashing heavy magic. _If we keep dancing like this,_ she thought, _we'll likely short-circuit the whole damn town._

Both women pretended to be very interested in the wall behind the other's head, instinctively knowing that if they gazed on their partner, they would cross a line they had long-heeded.

Emma's chest felt tight and her hands were tingling, almost like they were asleep. _What the hell?_ To regain control over her rioting body, she knew they needed space and silliness, in that order.

She gently removed Regina's hands from her hips, holding onto one and slowly twirling the brunette with the other so they were facing their son. Emma traveled over to the teen, letting go of Regina's hand and grabbing his.

"All right, kid. Time to man up," she said, mock seriously.

Emma ran Henry through a series of simple hand-holds, spins and twirls. Since the boy was apparently as rhythmic as Charming, maybe this would be easier.

Regina stood back and watched, a small smile on her lips as she continued to sway on her own, in time. Physically removed from Emma, she once again felt in control of her body and her magic.

Her small smile grew into a grin as she watched Emma and Henry laugh among elbows, arms and hands, ungracefully twisting like pretzels.

"Are you two wrestling or dancing?"

"Maybe it's me," Emma laughed. "Try it with your mom."

Emma stepped back as Regina stepped forward. Whether by birth or marriage, a royal in Fairytale Land knew how to dance. Although she hadn't done so in decades and the music certainly wasn't what she was used to, Regina was confident.

She gently drew herself into Henry's arms and came up with a combination of formal turns and holds and casual modern dance. It was inelegant and slightly clumsy with a lot of stops and starts, but no one cared. Regina and Henry smiled and laughed as they spun and twirled. Henry was nearly as tall as Regina, who melted at the fact and realization that her son was growing up fast.

Emma stood back, beaming, warmed by this moment of normalcy in this very abnormal town.

The song ended, and Regina curtsied out of sheer habit. After a beat, Henry realized what he was supposed to do and dropped into a low bow from the waist. Rising up, he surprised himself by stepping toward the former queen, tenderly taking her left hand in his right and kissing it.

"Thank you, m'lady," he said quietly in a voice not as deep as a man's, but definitely not that of a boy. He purposely omitted her former title; even though Emma jokingly called Regina "Your Majesty" from time to time, Henry never did - too many bad memories of that book.

Regina was stunned at the unexpected gesture. Eyes moist and threatening to spill over from the loving deed, she pulled her son into a fierce hug, her head landing on his shoulder. Emma didn't want this evening to end on an emotional, possibly melancholy note, so she broke the silence by clearing her throat.

"Damn, kid, you are smooth. Very nice," she noted, pretending to be uninterested. "But can you do this?"

Emma slid backward through the kitchen with the World's Most Pathetic Moonwalk as Regina sniffed back the tears with what Emma would later swear was a giggle. Henry outright guffawed: "Mom, please, no. I'm begging you."

Emma had just started the sprinkler when Henry grabbed her outstretched arm and tugged her into a twirl. He grabbed Regina with the other hand and began dancing with both of them at once.

A little better than he was just 15 minutes ago, Henry could hold one woman by the hand and gently twirl her while laying his arm across the waist of the other, turning them gently in a ballroom/modern/square dance hybrid.

As they pivoted and danced, each woman reveled in the moment of having fun with her son in this everyday way. At first embarrassed, Henry got into the spirit, his mothers' enthusiasm and laughter contagious.

As she dipped under Henry's arm and circled back around, Emma caught the smile on Regina's face, so unguarded, free and joyous, at last. Regina noticed Emma's gaze and returned her smile, the warmth in her brown eyes so earnest. _We worked hard for this._

The teen was really on a roll, enjoying this unexpected fun with his mothers until his phone rang in the foyer. The shrill tone disrupted Henry's concentration and he miscalculated, bringing his arms together, accidentally spinning Emma and Regina right into each other's arms.

So distracted by the call, Henry didn't even notice the state in which he left the pair as he called over his shoulder, sprinting out of the kitchen: "Sorry, gotta get that."

Emma and Regina stood stock-still in each other's arms, chests rising and falling from the dancing and a fierce blush spreading across Regina's face. Their hands each fell on the other's biceps, fingers and palms tingling from the contact. Each woman nearly vibrated with attraction and magnified magical energy.

Searching each other's eyes and unable to break away, both came to an immediate, undeniable conclusion.

_I love her_, Emma accepted.

Even after years of loneliness, Regina knew what this was: Love.

For two women so brave in many aspects of their lives, they were presently immobilized by fear. Emma attempted to lighten a mood so electric you could almost see sparks.

"So," Emma started with a small chuckle, "the kid obviously gets his dancing ability from me.

The gaze - and ambience - broken, Regina quickly regained her composure and dropped her arms from Emma's sides.

"Obviously," she replied evenly. "One could tell the way he was elbowing you in the head as he attempted a reverse spin."

Emma chuckled in agreement as she crossed the kitchen, slid on her flip-flops and shut off the radio.

"Listen, uh, thanks for dinner. And the cake," Emma stammered, not quite able to look anywhere near Regina's face and feeling the immediate need to flee. "It was great. I really, ah, appreciate you having me over like this. This was…this was a lot of fun."

Regina was already moving the dessert plates and silverware from the table to the sink, trying to keep herself occupied and away from Emma's eyes.

"Do you need help cleaning up?" Emma asked, knowing Regina would decline, but feeling like she needed to offer, anyway.

"No, dear. I have it under control."

"Right. Well, I should go."

Socially released from the situation, Emma turned and exited the kitchen so suddenly she didn't hear Regina's reply: "Good night, Emma."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you for the feedback, follows and favorites. Amusingly, I was having a hard time deciding how to end this story. "End" as in "the last few sentences." I wrote and rewrote a little, then slept on it, still unsatisfied. The next morning, a long and charming (no, not **_**them**_**) epilogue appeared. There are several possible one-shots in the epilogue. One is already written and edited, so there's a bit more in store for this universe.**

Emma stood stock still at Regina's front door, her nervous face reflected in pieces amongst the big brass 108. Crickets chirped loudly in the dark summer night, and Emma's heart was beating so fast and loud, she expected Regina to whip open the door and demand that the blonde stop making such a racket on her porch.

After dinner, the impromptu dance party and the startling realization that, yes, she was in love with her former nemesis, Emma drove straight home, trying to make sense of it all.

There were many nights she was thankful to be living on her own again and this was definitely one of them. Nursing a scotch on her couch, feet propped on the coffee table, she chuckled thinking about how if she still lived at her parents' loft, Snow would be grilling her as to why she came home so frazzled and why she was steadily draining the McClelland.

Emma swallowed the last of her drink, and as the ice cubes hit her teeth, clarity came at last. She wasn't thrown by the fact she cared for Regina; she was shaken because the former Evil Queen felt the same way. She didn't have to state it in so many words; Emma could read people well enough to see it plainly in Regina's eyes when Henry accidentally spun them into each others' arms.

A reflection of love and desire? _That_ Emma did not expect.

Although she had mellowed considerably over the past few years, Regina Mills was known for helicopter parenting, control-freak leadership, and OCD organization and cleanliness. She did not "do" love. Or so Emma thought, at least up until tonight.

The blonde replayed the evening's events for the umpteenth time and looked at the clock – 10:12 p.m. Her mind was running too fast to sleep, her stomach knotted with anticipation, excitement and dread. The two tumblers of scotch did nothing to knock her unconscious as she hoped.

Emma exhaled heavily, hopped off the couch and sped out the door before she lost her nerve, grabbing her phone and typing a message on her way down the stairs.

**I need to see you. Now.**

Regina sat at the desk in her study, futilely trying to take her mind off earlier events with a stack of paperwork.

The vibration of her phone mercifully shifted her attention from a poorly-written zoning proposal. As she swiped her thumb and read the screen, her breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened. Suddenly, the paperwork didn't look so bad. The mayor pushed her phone away and did her best to return to her reading, only to have it buzz again ten minutes later.

**Please?**

Regina took a deep breath as she typed her response.

_I'm getting ready for bed._

**If we don't talk, you're gonna sleep as bad as me, plus I know you're not getting ready for bed.**

_How do you know that? You're telepathic now?_

**I'm on your front porch. I can see your shadow through the window.**

Regina dropped her phone and took off for the front door.

"Really, Miss Swan? Stalking?"

Emma winced in reply. She seemed small and tentative, her usual swagger missing, and Regina immediately regretted her harsh greeting.

"I wasn't sure if Henry was up, and I didn't want to make a lot of noise. I'm sorry."

Regina turned her back and walked into the foyer, a signal for Emma to follow. Emma quietly shut the front door and followed Regina into the sitting room, where the mayor was perched near the sideboard.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Emma shook her head and cleared her throat.

Regina slowly walked over and joined Emma on the couch. The two sat facing each other, Regina's legs tucked neatly off to one side.

"About today…" Emma started, expecting Regina to immediately interrupt.

But the brunette was silent. She sat still, head slightly bowed like a penitent. Her eyes remained on her hands, clasped neatly on her lap. Her breathing was rapid and Emma watched the former queen's chest dramatically rise and fall.

Emma's gaze followed Regina's. Before the blonde realized what she was doing, she took Regina's hands, unfolded them and held them gently in her own. Joined once more, both pairs began to tingle.

"About today…" she restarted, again waiting a beat. "Really? You have nothing to say? You never have nothing to say."

Regina looked up. "That's a double negative, Emma."

The sheriff's eyes grew wide, her mouth parted slightly and a charge buzzed through her chest. "You…you called me 'Emma'. The first time you call me by my name in months and you correct my grammar?"

"Your grammar is atrocious."

"_There_ you are," Emma smiled softly. "I was beginning to worry I was in the wrong house."

Her confidence restored a touch, Regina looked at Emma as the sheriff began a third time.

"I have feelings for you and I think you have them for me." Emma paused, then continued. "I _know_ you have them for me."

Underway at last, the confession picked up speed and volume. "I look at you and I feel funny. And my hands! Can you feel that? You _can_ feel that, right? I'm worried we're gonna set something on fire. What does that mean?"

Emma looked to Regina to say something - anything – but the brunette was silent.

Extracting one hand from her partner's grasp, Regina lifted her index finger to Emma's lips to silence them, then leaned forward and tenderly followed them with her lips.

Both women leaned into the kiss, which was very soft and very dry. Regina's lips were almost pursed as Emma flashed back to her first kiss behind Reardon Junior High with Billy Sullivan. It was almost as if Regina didn't know how to kiss. But then, Emma realized, the woman probably hadn't, not in a long time.

Eager to make it better, Emma slowly swiped her tongue over Regina's lips. The brunette parted hers and took the opportunity to capture Emma's top lip in between her own, the added moisture making them slip and slide against the other.

_Now_, Emma thought, _that's more like it._

Emma wound her hand behind Regina's head, cupping it and gently pulling the mayor into her lap. She anchored her other on the brunette's hip, and then slowly moved it up her side until she held the woman's face in her hands. Emma pulled her lips away, reverently scattering soft kisses over Regina's cheeks, forehead, eyelids and nose. Herself on sensory overload, Regina simply kept her eyes shut and tried to catch her breath, soft moans of encouragement spilling out.

Emma's lips sucked their way down to the former queen's neck when Regina suddenly pulled back, eyes narrowed.

"You smell and taste like whiskey. Are you drunk?"

"It's scotch…And _no_! No, I am not drunk. I had a couple at home while I tried to figure out what to do."

Emma carefully untangled herself and hopped up off the couch.

"If I were drunk, could I do this?" Emma smugly launched into another pathetic Moonwalk.

Tension broken, Regina let out a peal of laughter, so loud she covered her mouth with her hands. Her shoulders shook with laughter and relief as she wiped the tears out of her eyes.

"Actually, that only confirms my suspicions."

Emma gazed lovingly at the exquisite, smiling woman and felt her heart leap.

"C'mere," she ordered, extending her hand and pulling Regina off the couch and into her arms.

The brunette snuggled into her partner, her left arm wrapped around Emma's shoulders, her right entwined with Emma's left as they swayed around the room. Emma placed a chaste kiss to her partner's forehead, then rested her head against Regina's with a contented exhale as the pair continued to sway gently.

"So, where do we go from here?"

Regina's voice was throaty and deep. "Upstairs?"

Emma slowed their movement, choking out a strangled squeak, her eyebrows raised high. "Damn, I was hoping for 'Let's go make out on the couch' but I like your idea better."

She tilted her head toward Regina's, capturing the brunette's lips and quickly parted them with her tongue, languidly exploring Regina's mouth, as the latter tried to keep pace.

The sounds of lazy, wet kisses and soft moans hung in the air as Regina tentatively slid her hands off Emma's shoulders and down her torso, tenderly cupping and squeezing her breasts. Her hands splayed across Emma's chest, Regina rubbed her thumbs over Emma's nipples, feeling them rise. The emotion and magic thick in the air, the women practically vibrated, their joined charge so powerful.

Emma unleashed an almost-pained groan. "Unhh, we gotta stop." Regina pulled her head back, stunned.

"No, not…" Emma waved her hand between them, "…this." Words failed her, sensation overwhelming her ability to speak. "Dancing. I can't dance and kiss you and hold you while you…"

Regina raised an eyebrow with a smirk, her face every inch the victorious Evil Queen. "So," she drawled seductively, "what shall we do?"

Acting without thinking – a move that sometimes served her well – Emma grabbed Regina and lowered her into a dip, attacking her exposed neck with smacking kisses and tight suction until a voice jokingly threatened, "Mark me and I will end you."

Emma pulled Regina upright and placed a small kiss on the end of her nose. "You have to catch me first!" she taunted, bolting out of the sitting room and heading for the stairs.

**Epilogue**

"I can't believe you're making me do this."

"I can't fathom the fact you're still complaining."

Emma and Regina stood shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, at the back entrance to a large white tent peering inside at the gathered crowd.

Once they acknowledged their feelings, the relationship progressed rapidly. They snuck around for a few weeks, agonizing over how to tell Henry, only to have him howl in their worried faces when they finally mustered up the courage for a talk.

"Seriously? I knew the next day. You guys would be the worst poker players ever…wait, do you guys want to play some poker? I need to save up for a car." Thrilled to have the upper hand, he couldn't resist a final jab: "Plus, you know, I'm not deaf."

His mothers' faces were equal parts angry, flustered and embarrassed, which only made him laugh harder.

Regina's eyes widened as a blush burned up her face. "That's enough insolence, young man," she warned.

Emma reached over and patted him gently on his cheek, a thinly veiled threat to wrap it up. "You are your mother's son, that's for damn sure."

Henry out of the way, there was only one uncomfortable conversation left. While she dreaded the talk with Henry, Regina couldn't wait for a sit-down with The Charmings.

"You shouldn't be enjoying this so much," Emma informed her girlfriend as they approached her parents' front door. Regina remained mute, reveling in the anticipation and sporting a shit-eating grin so wide you'd have thought she won the lottery. Which for her, this was - on several levels.

Emma knocked as a courtesy and opened the door for Regina, who sauntered past her with a merry – and uncharacteristic - "Good morning, Snow! Charming!"

Emma caught the confused look on her parents' faces as she shut the door with one thought: _Jesus, help me._

Immediate-family notifications complete, Emma moved into Mifflin Street soon thereafter and proposed the following Valentine's Day. ("It's cliché, I know," she apologized. Tears raced down Regina's cheeks. "I'll forgive you.")

The bride-to-be threw herself into wedding planning. Magazines were dog-eared and littered with Post-It notes, the DVR bloated with wedding shows. Emma and Regina curled up on the couch one evening, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching an episode of Bridezillas, which horrified Emma more than anything she had seen since moving to Storybrooke.

"Don't get any ideas," the blonde warned.

"Oh, please." Regina chuckled, placing some kernels in Emma's mouth. "I will be _much_ worse."

But she wasn't, she was merely content to plan her own wedding, which she did right down to her fiancé's undergarments. While she loved a good party, Emma couldn't care less about a formal wedding, but Regina wanted it, so she was happy to go along for the ride. "I don't care about the details," Emma said one night as she wrapped a frazzled Regina up in her arms. "I just want you."

Emma tightened her grip excitedly on her wife's hand, her finger feeling ridiculously heavy with the weight of the gold band.

"You ready?"

Regina squeezed back and smiled.

"As I'll ever be."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mrs. and Mrs. Swan-Mills for their first dance…"

**Reviews much appreciated. Thank you.**


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